Unlikely Universes
by Terahlyanwe
Summary: Random bits of small fic ideas that have floated through my head. Get ready for revamped HP blond jokes, weird slash pairings, bizarre alternate universes, and really anything else that I don't think will be expanded into full stories, yet still made it onto my computer. Rated M because eventually some chapters may contain some material that some consider objectionable.
1. Neville the Hunk

Pet Peeve#1: Why the eff should I have a disclaimer that I'm not making money off this? If I'm writing on a fanfiction site for Athena's sake, you'd think that would be obvious. (That being said, some people have hilarious disclaimers.)

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Harry ducked out of the portrait hole and strode confidently away from the Gryffindor common room. He smiled slightly as girls screamed and rushed towards him.

"That's right ladies, give old Harry Potter some love." He said, smiling and stretching his arms out to encompass all his fan girls. Ever since becoming captain of the Quidditch team, Harry had been finding that his natural talents at the sport, as well as being the highly successful captain of the equally successful Gryffindor team had led to girls fainting in the halls offering to let him steal their knickers whenever he winked at them. To his surprise, Harry discovered that he liked the positive attention. Having girls falling at his feet and being the envy of every male in the school was far preferable to having everyone believing that he was a liar and ought to be hamstrung for every misdeed the Prophet claimed he had committed.

The girls, as one, screaming again and running towards Harry composed a wave of sultriness and exuded mating hormones that lit Harry's brain on fire. Harry shuddered in place and waited for the girls to fall over him and start giving him the love. He closed his eyes, beamed, and stretched his arms out wider to encompass them all.

A blast of rushing wind screamed past him, nearly knocking him off his feet and left him reeling in circles, trying to regain his balance. Harry swore under his breath and cursed himself for not exercising besides Quidditch practice; the exercising that Quidditch offered only kept the top half of his body in shape. Everything below his abs was flab. Imaging what his staggering in drunken circles would do for his fledging reputation as a sexy stud made him wince.

Finally regaining his balance without getting up close and personal with the flagstones under his feet, Harry turned in a bewildered circle looking for his fan girls and finally noticed a cloud of dust off in the distance, outside a window. Highly confused, Harry found the nearest exit and began following the dust cloud.

"Someone must have Confounded them!" he said to himself, sure that an attack was beginning on the thirty hottest girls in school. "It must be a ruse to make me leave the relative safety of the school and meet my demise at the hands of Voldemort and his evil but accursedly attractive Death Eaters!" Determined to save his loyal, sexy fangirls (and Millicent), Harry doggedly followed the receding trail of dust.

Rounding the corner of the lake, Harry nearly tripped over a slowly crawling form that was covered in dusty footprints and a few purplish bruises on the visible skin that were clear imprints of Hogwarts uniform standard issue black dress shoes, designed to go well with your robes, no matter the occasion! Harry belated recognized the girl as Hannah Abbot.

"Hannah?" he asked, disbelievingly. How could the girl's hair get so matted and her eyes so bloodshot in such a short time? He'd seen her, looking gorgeous and wanton mere minutes before, flinging herself at him outside the Gryffindor common room. She looked up and past him with glazed, unseeing eyes, still smiling despite her obviously uncomfortable state.

"What a man!" she said, words barely slurred at all. "Must…reach…the sexy beast. How can one man have so much testosterone?" Hannah twitched and fell over, one hand still outstretched in the direction of the dust cloud. Horrified by the treatment that the rest of the girls must be enduring, if Hannah's condition was anything to go by, Harry ascertained that Hannah was still breathing, then took off at a dead run for the other end of the lake.

Panting and sweating, Harry was about to collapse with a dreadful stitch in his side when the faint sound of shrieking girls met his ears. Immediately a new burst of energy flooded his veins and he found the strength to speed up to a slow jog for the remaining half a kilometer.

"I'm coming, ladies!" he croaked, wondering if Dobby would hear him and come with a glass of water if he asked nicely for one.  
The group of girls was hidden by a large outcropping of rock that jutted out into the lake. Manfully, Harry waded around it managed to reach the other side without getting more than his shoes wet. Nothing could have prepared the hero for what lay on the other side. When he finally managed to blink enough sweat out of his eyes to focus clearly on what lay beyond him; the world's sexiest man standing on the body of Harry's most dreadful foe, shouting triumphantly, and holding his wand above his head. The crowd of adoring girls surrounding him, clamoring to be heard.

"Neville, I want to have your babies!"

"We love you, Neville!"

"How did we never notice before how HOT he is?"

Harry's brain could not handle this input of imformation; twitching slightly, he collapsed on the ground.  
Harry came to when a US size 5 three in heel impacted with his chest. Moaning, he blinked and noticed that he was staring up Parvati Patil's robe with a wonderful view of her white flowered knickers. The crowd had shifted to encompass Harry, and the star struck girls were not cognizant enough of Harry's presence to care if they were standing over him.

"Nevile…" Harry barely managed to push the word past his cracked and dry lips. In an instant, his attentive friend was at his side.

"Harry! I'm so sorry, I had no idea how devastating I can be! I didn't mean to kill your arch nemesis, destroy his horcruxes, and make every female in Hogwarts fall desperately in love with me, but now that it's happened you won't be too sore, will you?" the teenager actually looked worried and Harry waved a hand feebly. Neville snatched at it and tenderly helped Harry to his feet. Now both of them were completely surrounded up the females, all trying to tug Harry away from the object of their adoration in order to be closer to him than Harry was.

"Wh..what did you do that was so potent?" Harry managed to ask. Neville turned from where he had been whispering something in Tonk's ear—how the hell did she get there, when, and why? Harry wondered—that caused her cheeks and hair both to flush bright red. Neville turned away from her with a brilliant smile.

"Eh, what did you say, Harry?" the sheer force of Neville's smile knocked out every girl who looked directly on his handsome face, and when he made eye contact with the hapless Harry Potter, the boy's face turned deathly pale and he collapsed, all the testosterone in his body turning into estrogen making him faint before the power of Neville's manliness and attractiveness. Sighing slightly, Neville lay Harry at full length on the ground. He stood up and shrugged.

"Honestly." He murmured to himself. "Who would have thought that a simple straight-toothed smile in a ruggedly handsome face would wreak so much havoc?"

All around him, the crowd of girls spontaneously orgasmed as Neville lifted one eyebrow and and motioned for the girls to follow him back to the castle.

"I have a feeling that the Room of Requirement will be happy to service us, ladies." he chuckled, leaving the prone forms of Harry and Voldemort to be carried to the terminal ward of St Mungo's by thousands of field mice.

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Seriously, I have no idea when Matthew Lewis went from being an ugly little kid (he had cotton stuffed in his cheeks throughout all of the movies to make him look that way) to the freaking hottie he is right now.

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_(I do enjoy getting reviews, and if you review one of my stories, I'll read and review at least one of yours!)_


	2. Crabbe and Goyle

Pet Peeve #2: Every couple that is shipped is always portrayed as slim, incredibly suave, super attractive, and if they're a gay pairing, then one or both people is so ridiculously androgynous in appearance or behavior that the male/female stereotypes are perpetuated within the relationship. Why the hell can't people accept that some guys like guys, and don't need their partner to be super macho or super fem, and some girls like girls, and don't need the same. Honestly, it pisses me off.

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Draco leaned back against his chair with a sneer and regarded his minion.

"I don't even know why this is a big deal to you. You're making a fuss over a deviant, and it's disgusting. If your behavior continues, my father will hear about this." Vincent blanched and began to stammer an apology. Draco stood up and advanced on him menacingly.

"If she really cared about this, wouldn't she have come herself? Or is she too afraid? You honestly thought that I would want my man Vincent on one side of me, and some prancing pink-clad fairy of a girl on my other side? She isn't even a proper girl? The sight of her in a dress makes me want to vomit!" Vincent turned very pale, then very red in quick succession. Draco made the mistake of thinking that Vincent agreed with him. Studying his nails, Draco continued with a smirk,

"Really, I think we all ought to do her a favor and Obliviate all knowledge of this idiocy from her mind. Until we can use the information at a later date to…have some fun with her after the Dark Lord has risen and rules over the world proper…Vincent, what are you doing? Stop that immediately!" Draco's words trailed off in a gargling, choked shriek as Vincent, face now black with rage wrapped his huge hands around Draco's throat and threw his employed against the heavy wooden door, which opened under the impact sending the heir and scion of the Malfoy family tumbling ingloriously down four flights of stairs. Vincent blinked at the open door for a few minutes before hurrying down the stairs after the blond menace, swear vociferously in four languages as he did so.

Thirty minutes later, Vincent had quickly used the Obliviate spell to remove all memory of their conversation from Draco's mind, and with subtlety few would suspect the large boy possessed, had introduced a suggestion that he had been hurrying to intercept the Potter boy with a new scheme to get him to deliver himself to the Dark Lord when one of the Ravenclaws' stupid rolls of parchment had rolled under his feet, sending him careering down the stairs. The entire suggestion was fuzzy, of course, as one might expect a terrifically concussed person's memory to be.

With Poppy fussing over Draco and the Headmaster twinklingly hoping aloud that the incident would help reform the boy, Vincent allowed himself a nasty grin as he quickly exited the infirmary to find his girlfriend. He was late, and they had something special planned in the private room that any of the Slytherins could arrange to use when they were planning something risqué.

"Rise again, Salazar's Heir." Vincent muttered the ridiculous password quickly and entered the Slytherin common room. The dratted lighting was an even murkier green than usual, as often happened when ice covered the lake above the common room. The Slytherin areas were completely abandoned; it was supper time after all, the perfect time to sneak around and see someone.

Vincent opened the door to the private room and allowed his eyes to adjust to the soft candlelight. His eyes widened with delight as he saw his date reposed on the large, plush bed in a provocative pose.

"Do I look alright?" his date stretched out, and arm flung casually across her hip in what looked like an effortless movement, but Vincent knew that his lover had probably practiced the move a hundred times. Knowing the effort put into the appearance only made the action double precious and attractive to the stocky boy.

"You look amazing." Vincent's voice was raspy with need and desire. Stripping off his shirt, he fell into the bed on top of the covers and pulled the other person to him. The door closed itself and locked; from the outside, one wouldn't be able to tell the door was there until they occupants chose to leave. Perfect privacy. Vincent sighed and leaned back in ecstacy as his lover trailed kisses down his neck and chest.  
"I've missed you."

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"Vinny?"

"Hmm?" Vincent rolled over to face the sturdy, comforting form of his long time friend and now current lover.

"Don't you ever get tired of just being one of Draco's stupid goons? You aren't dumb, you know. I bet no one here is even aware that you're taking your N.E.W.T.S. in Transfiguration and Charms." Vincent smiled faintly and propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand making lazy circles on his lover's bare stomach.

"I know your situation is different, love, but my father signed me into a contract to serve Draco for a certain amount of time. We're only in fifth year and my contract extends a year past graduation. I'm stuck, brains or not." he smiled and touched his lover's lower lip softly.

"Hey, don't pout, we'll still be together." Vincent brushed light brown hair away from his love's face and studied it closely.

"What's wrong? I know you; something's bothering you. And don't just try to smile and say it's nothing, Genevieve." Genevieve smiled tremblingly and tried to speak steadily.

"I'm just so afraid. Afraid of everything. For one, I'm sick of this hiding and pretending. Not letting anyone know we're actually together, and why? Because our fathers are bigots who can't stand the idea of their ickle babies being together because of flukes of birth? If I was born to a more progressive family, I'd have been able to pursue my dream years ago! I could have come to school normally, instead of be tormented every day by my knowledge that no one else sees me as who I am! And now that I have the best, and most wonderful boyfriend in the world, we can't admit it to anyone, and I'm terrified every day that he'll die and no one will even know the true reason that I'll mourn forever." Vincent's eyes opened wide and he hurried to take Genevieve in his arms. He began humming softly, and Genevieve lay her head against his chest and closed her eyes, relaxing in the feeling of Vincent's bass voice reverberating through his chest.

"I love you, Geni." he said softly. "And I'll live, for you. One day everyone will know that Vincent Crabbe is going to marry the most beautiful and wonderful girl in the world, and I'll stay with you forever. I don't care what you look like or what package you're toting, I love you for who you are, not what body you're in." Genevieve wriggled away slightly and leaned back, drinking in the sight of Vincent's face, and apparently chose to believe his radical words.

"Really? You'll stay with me?" she asked faintly. "I was sure that you wouldn't be able to stand me, once I've found a mediwizard who's capable of casting a permanent genderchanging spell. I thought once I've transformed my parents would throw me out in disgust, and you wouldn't be able to bear the sight of me anymore." Vincent pulled Genevieve in to himself tightly.

"Never." he vowed fiercely. "I'll always love you, and one day no one will even remember that you were once called Gregory Goyle. The world will look at you and see a radiantly beautiful Genevieve Goyle-Crabbe and if anyone takes issue with that I'll…I'll Conjure up rainbow unicorn plushies to follow them around until they decide to love you, too!" Genevieve's eyes filled with happy tears.

"We'll make it through this, and once your obligations to Draco are fulfilled, we can go anywhere!" Vincent caught her enthusiasm for travelling and matched it with his own love of exploring.

"France!"

"Portugal!" Their eyes met; both of them were grinning ear to ear.

"Anywhere we wish!" Vincent tipped Genevieve's chin up and kissed her soundly.

"But right now.." he peered down into her eyes mischievously, "I think we ought to have another round of our favorite pastime.

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Note: This is not making fun of transgender people, nor the LGBT community in any way. It's simply an idea I had of Crabbe and Goyle and expanded on.

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_(I do enjoy getting reviews, and if you review one of my stories, I'll read and review at least one of yours!)_


	3. A Blond, a Brunette, and a Redhead

Pet Peeve #3: As soon as Harry is stuck together alone with an enemy, in every single fic I've read, they suddenly become OMG BFF'S and end up living happily ever after, because before, they only hated each other because of a misunderstanding! ZOMG! Life doesn't work that way all the time. Sometimes, people just hate each other and always will. Get over it.

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Draco peered at the distant shore and sat down on the sand with a decidedly whiny cast to his voice.

"My father will hear about this, and he will come with the Dark Lord and punish you both for making the boat sink!" Harry grabbed Ron's arm to keep the redhead from jumping on Draco and pummeling him into insensibility.

"You're an idiot." Ron spat at the blond heir to millions. "We didn't do anything to make the boat sink. It certainly isn't our fault that the Giant Squid had his cousin the Kraken coming to visit and decided to eat a boat on the way!" Harry was peering at the horizon with a speculative look on his face. He rounded on Draco suddenly.

"Say, Ron and I both lost our wands, but if you have yours, could you send a Patronus message to someone to get us off of here?" Draco somehow managed to look down at the standing Harry and Ron from his seated position with a supercilious look on his face.

"I shan't be responsible for rescuing two jackanapes who couldn't be bothered to hold onto their own wands. If you're so special, O Boy-Who-Lived, do it wandlessly." Harry's lips tightened, and so did his grip on Ron's arm. His wet, dark brown hair was plastered to his skull so it looked like it was painted on, and his skin was an unhealthily chilly shade of blue, but his voice was controlled and full of menace.

"Look here, you stupid white haired git, if you don't either cast that spell or let one of us do it….ohhhhh." his voice suddenly trailed off as an expression of mirth crossed his face.

"You can't cast a Patronus, can you? Bet you can't even get a wisp, let alone a corporeal one." Ron suddenly had a nasty grin on his face.  
"Even I can cast one." The redhead mocked the shivering blond. "Now how about you hand over your wand to two real wizards and we'll call for help." Draco stood up, reeling with cold and dizziness and attempted to stalk away, but ended up tripping over a bump in the sand.  
"I shall do no such thing. If either one of you lays a finger on me, my father shall hear of it!"

"Ooooh, the ickly boy's going to sic his father on us!" Ron cast the phrase after Draco's retreating back. "I'm simply terrified. Now give us the bloody wand!" Draco took off running at the last words and disappeared behind the only tree on the tiny island. Ron and Harry bolted after him and caught the boy after a relatively short sprint. They tackled him simultaneously, Ron's war scream ending abruptly as a well placed elbow strike from the blond caught him in the trachea.

"Here, gerroff me you slimy gits!" Draco protested loudly, as his two companions attempted to hold him down and riffle through his clothes. Through the sounds of the scuffle, one noise rang out and froze all three combatants. It was a loud snapping noise, much like the sound of a twig breaking. Or a wand.

Ron and Harry sat back and stared at Draco with wide, terrified eyes as Draco slowly reached a hand inside his robes and brought out his wand, which was split in two, the core still letting half the wand dangle from the handle end.

"You…lot…of…slimy….blood traitors!" Draco shrieked and launched himself at the guilty duo who, seeing Draco's inarticulate rage, were wise enough to grab his arms and hold him between them. Draco screamed and thrashed and sobbed for several minutes until he sagged limply from between their arms.

"Put me down." He ordered, with no energy in his tone. Ron and Harry dropped him unceremoniously and sat a respectable distance away from him on tufts of grass.

"Well, now no one will ever find us. They'll just assume we were eaten by the Kraken." Ron observed with a shaky voice. The boys were now seriously facing the prospect of living the rest of their lives on this chunk of island and were not relishing it. The rest of their lives with no girls? Ew. They all sat morosely, pretending that none of them had tears in their eyes when Ron suddenly leaped to his feet.  
"I've got it!" Draco blinked at him.

"Fleas?" he asked mildly, with hidden malice lurking below his tone. "We've known that for years, Weasley." Ron was too excited to do more than smack Draco's head.

"No, I've got the solution! The mainland is only about….eh….two kilometers away." He explained, squinting at the horizon. "We can swim!" Harry and Draco blinked at him in horror.

"Ron." Harry tried to explain, mentally deciding to use the smallest words and least complicated sentence structure possible in order to get the concept through the redhead's thick skull.

"It's only ten degrees out, and the water is probably colder. We'd drown before we swam a klick." Ron was not to be deterred. He stripped down to his white Fruit of the Loom Wizard-Wear briefs and ran down to the water, Harry and Draco wincing and groaning as they were treated to the sight of Ron's pale white arse.

"You've got holes in your knickers!" Draco bellowed after the boy, but Ron was already plunging into the water. Harry clapped a hand to his head dramatically and groaned again.

"He's going to die." he lay silently on his back for several moments until a rock poking into his spine made the reposing position uncomfortable. Presently he noticed Draco looking out to sea through a spyglass.

"The hell?!" Harry snarled. "You let us break your fucking wand, and you kept a spyglass safe?" Draco ignored his outburst.

"Huh, looks like the blood traitor has made it nearly half a klick so far, I'd say." Harry snatched the spyglass away and peered through it, scanning the waves to catch a glimpse of his friend. He got Ron's pale face in the spyglass for only a moment before the boy sank beneath the waves and didn't come up again. Harry 's face was ashen, but determined.

"I won't die here in vain!" he shouted, leaping to his feet and not bothering to strip. "I will swim back and everyone will know how Ron Weasley inspired the Boy-Who-Lived to live again!" Draco leaned back against a convenient rock and watched Harry dive into the water and swim away from the island—in the wrong direction—with great gusto. He actually made it three quarters of a klick before a huge tentacle wrapped around him and dragged the boy down. Draco smirked.

"Bloody gits deserved it. I'm surprised it took them this long to die." Draco closed his eyes, intending to nap for a bit and enjoy the peace and quiet when a horrible thought crossed his mind. His eyes widened in horror.

"How can I live here the rest of my life with no hair product?!" The thought was terrific enough to motivate the Slytherin into making an unusually bold move. "I'm going swimming." He declared to the open air, accustomed enough to Crabbe and Goyle's constant attending that he always spoke his thoughts aloud. The lack of expected feedback from his goons took him aback for a moment, but not long enough to deter him. He strode confidently down to the water, waded in, wincing at the cold, and swam away towards land with determined strokes. He dropped his heart rate as low as possible, got a steady breathing rhythm, and was actually starting to enjoy the brisk exercise when his pinky toe suddenly grew fatigued. Draco stopped, treading water, and looked about him in every direction. He peered back at the island and realized that he had managed to swim about one full kilometer. Draco wanted to continue swimming to the mainland, but his pinky toe was tired! Perhaps it would be better to return to the island, rest, and attempt the swim on another day.

Draco, happy with his reasoning, swam laboriously back to the island, and lay on the shore, shivering uncontrollably as he rested his pinky toe and gazed at the mainland shore, two kilometers away.

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_(I do enjoy getting reviews, and if you review one of my stories, I'll read and review at least one of yours!)_


	4. Lucius and Molly

Pet Peeve #5: Molly Weasley. She hella annoys me. She's grasping, manipulative, controlling, and her joking about using a love potion on Arthur makes me ill. Fics where she's the perfect mother, and wonderful and amazing are ridiculously fake. Conversely, fics where she's half troll and the entire family's dirty little secret are similarly unbelievable. However, everyone has some reason why they have certain traits, and my overactive imagination conjured up images of what might have happened in a young pureblood witch's life to make her be so controlling, specifically.

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"Marry me, Molly." the words hung silently in the air, nearly visible between the two seventh year students whose soft laughter vanished abruptly when the words left Lucius's lips. Instantly, Lucius wished he could kick himself for the way he had phrased the question—Malfoy's asked their betrothed to marry them only as a formality, since the contract would have been long since finished by both parties' parents—as well as wanting the moment to last forever, because Molly's eyes were fixed on his face with complete attention, and he loved it when Molly looked at him as though they were the only two people in the world.

Molly gazed silently at Lucius Malfoy for a long time, conflicting emotions warring on her face. The blond object of her scrutiny was uncharacteristically silent as he leaned back in his chair, laced fingers in front of his chest, elbows on the arm rests. Molly found herself inanely focused on his boots. Completely at odds with the rest of his sleek, groomed look, the boots were made of heavy leather, scuffed, covered in long scratches that accumulate from wear, and looked more like boots that a muggle wildfire fighter would wear than the wealthy Heir to the Malfoy estate. Finally, she lifted her eyes back to his face and took a deep breath.

"I can't marry you, Lucius." she said quietly. "I've been betrothed to Arthur Weasley since I was six. Magically. It can only be broken with his or my death." Lucius looked murderous.

"I can arrange for that." he said quietly, the venom in his voice apparent. "You, my lovely Molly, would be wasted on that _boy,"_ he spat. "Come away with me, please." The last word was almost unspoken, how quietly did he breathe it, a little plea escaping the proud Heir who deigned beg for his bride. Molly stood up biting her lip nervously and smoothed the front of her robes down with a little flare of satisfaction. Lucius Malfoy wanted her, Molly Prewett, and thought that Arthur didn't deserve her. But then Molly thought of how Arthur looked at her when he thought she wouldn't notice. The gleam in his eye when he held out his arm to side-along apparate her to his parents' house and she sighed.

"Don't kill him, Lucius." she said wearily. "He loves me…and I think," she continued cautiously, knowing that her next words would probably kill the spark of happiness that appeared in Lucius's eyes every time he saw her, "that I could love him too, given enough time." Lucius stood with all his normal fluidity and grace, but his movements were closer and more controlled than usual. Molly forced herself to meet his eyes and stood also. She half reached an arm out towards him but stopped when he recoiled from her. He turned away from her and strode across the brightly lit room. All of Malfoy Manor was ornate and opulent, but dark. By contrast inn Lucius's wing of the house—the Heir's wing—the furniture and walls were all of light, thin materials that ushered in the light and made it seem like they were surrounded by white, cool sunlight. Lucius's boots were nearly silent as he paced across the floor away from her, and Molly admired his fluid way of movement. He suddenly whirled and strode back towards her faster, and his face was full of hurt and anger.

"You could love him? Given enough time, you would be happy with that Gryffindor?" he demanded, stopping just far enough away from Molly that she could not touch him without stepping closer, and that she could not do; her courage had all failed her.

"You would give up our life long friendship, everything we have shared, to be with him just because both your parents signed a contract when you were prepubescent? Molly, we've studied together, slipped out of Hogsmeade weekends to visit Diagon Alley together, we slept together, we had a terrifyingly happy week of 'oh Merlin, is Molly pregnant?' in sixth year together." Lucius suddenly stepped forward and seized her hand.

"You said you loved me." his face was suddenly forlorn and inside, Molly died a little. She drew her hand out of his and turned his arm over, pushing up his sleeve and to show a livid, dark tattoo on the inside of his right arm. She traced the outline of it with her finger, shocked as always at how unnatural it looked, malevolent and dark. She glanced up at the lines of his face, almost girlishly delicate, and inwardly she cried. Molly drew her wand and made a slow circle over Lucius's Mark, whispering "Revuscus." under her breath. Immediately a series of Runes appeared in the air over his mark as though someone was writing them. They rotated slowly and steadily with the movement of Molly's wand.

A sharp breath caught in her throat as she read the circling runes. Lucius's face was stone. He knew what the Runes read, and hopelessness began to creep across his countenance as she studied the inner workings of his Mark.

"Ashtem. Rethli. Argoont." Molly read off the names of the three least dark Runes and tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. She allowed the spell disintegrate and slipped her wand back into her pocket.

"Runes of torture, rape, murder, ruthlessness. Lucius, you're not yourself since you took the Mark. You're more ruthless, hard, and cruel. I realized that I could love Arthur Weasley after I realized that I will always be in love with Lucius Malfoy." Lucius, looking exceedingly puzzled and vaguely angry tried to speak, but Molly continued, pushing her words over his.

"But the Lucius Malfoy I know is dead." Lucius reeled back as though physically wounded by her words, and his fair complexion blanched to a corpselike paleness. Molly felt tears running down her cheeks as she choked out her last few words.

"I will be married in a month after I finish my N.E.W.T.S. If you have found a way to remove your Mark by then and are willing to flee with me to another country to live together, I will go with you." she told him, and he started shaking his head in terror.

"I cannot. The Dark Lord would still find me and kill me." Molly turned away from his, tears now pouring down her face in earnest.

"Goodbye, Lucius." she forced out and then whirled in a circle and Apparated away on the spot.

Lucius began swearing viciously and in earnest, flinging the chair he had been sitting on across the room and into a wall. Reinforced by magic to be impermeable to most accidents, the chair remained unharmed, but Lucius found the action to be cathartic. He stormed into his bedroom and started flinging curses at everything that reminded him of Molly.

"Relus Arscen!" the bedcurtains that Molly had loved to sit behind and tease him through their transluscent layers shredded and fell to the floor, the wood railings they had been hanging from showing deep slices through them.

"Illumescin!" Fire began licking up the sides of his tall mirror where he and Molly had undressed one another, admiring one another's' bodies from two different angles. The glass slowly dripped and melted and the frame turned black and sooty.

It was not enough, his anguish was not assuaged by the damage he was wreaking on his belongings. Lucius fell to his knees on the floor and keened silently, face twisted as he held back tears and sobs. Such behavior was not suited to the Noble House of Malfoy. Miles away, Molly was sitting by the lake outside Hogwarts with her face buried in her hands, crying as though she could never be comforted.

o~O~o

"Molly Prewett, you are going to get that dress dirty, and then where will we be?" Molly's eyes never wavered from where they were fixed on the silhouette of a lone willow tree far in the distance. She wiped suddenly at her eyes and turned around, light laughter spilling out of her lips, but with an infinitely sad look in her eyes.

"We'd scourgify it clean and the wedding would go on as planned!" she answered, but at a stern look shot at her by her mother, she sighed and brushed at a wrinkle in her white skirt ineffectually. With another glance at the far-off tree, she stepped off the boulder that had lent her a few inches to her vantage point and seemed to withdraw within herself. Even the wind, which had been setting her strawberry curls to dancing flirtatiously around her face seemed to bend around her, leaving her as a solid fixture among the tossing, long grasses and herbaceous growth that came up to her knees. Her mother sighed and patted Molly on the shoulder. Molly noted abstractly that her mother had to reach up to do so; it seemed odd, being taller than her mother, who in her memories always loomed over her in personality, if not stature.

"Arthur is waiting for you." Melanie Prewett said with a meaningful look at her pensive daughter who did not respond.

* * *

"_Lucius, what are you doing here? My parents don't like you and we're in full view of the house." Lucius laughed and reached down from where he was lounging on the lowest branch of the willow tree and touched Molly's upstretched hand._

"_If we're in the tree, they won't see us." Molly shivered at the timbre of his voice and an involuntary smile crept across her lips. She blinked the wind-induced tears out of the corner of her eyes and met Lucius's grey, laughing ones. _

"_I have good news for you." She told him, smiling a little more, now, recalling how Madame Pomfrey had called her into the infirmary just after Lucius had left for home early, but before the _Hogwarts Express_ had been scheduled to leave, and the news she had given was blessed. Lucius suddenly looked a little worried. _

"_Good news?" he asked cautiously his mind immediately springing to their scare, and not sure if Molly's definition of 'good news' was the same as his. Molly climbed up beside him in the tree and settled herself against the trunk. _

"_I'm not pregnant." Lucius let out a huge breath that he hadn't been aware that he had been holding. "Anymore." Molly added, then as a most peculiar look crossed Lucius's face she quickly amended. "Joking!" and burst out laughing. The corner of Lucius's mouth quirked just for a moment, then he was solemn again._

"_Not funny, Molly." He complained. "My father would have murdered me and adopted my cousin Sirius to be the heir. Molly touched the side of his face lightly and stretched up to kiss him briefly. Lucius drew away first, a faint smile touching his face._

"_I have a feeling that you and I won't be studying for our N.E.W.T.S. as much as we ought to when the school year starts." Molly sighed and wrinkled her nose._

"_Actually, I'm supposed to be meeting my summer tutor right now. Mum and Dad really want me to get top scores in everything so every field will be open to me."_

* * *

"Molly. Mary Jeanine Prewett!" Molly gave a little start at the last exclamation and furrowed her brow.

"I heard the first time." she complained, then reflected pensively "He never does anything else." Melanie chose to read the more comfortable inflection from thestatement.

"Aye, with you gallivanting off to stare into the horizon every hour he'd have to wait for you or abandon his bride." Molly's eyes slanted towards her mother resentfully for a scant moment, then she peered off into the distance once more.

"I'd thought…but that is impossible." she said sternly, clearly speaking to herself. Melanie sighed heavily then touched her daughter's arm and spoke far more softly than she was wont.

"You are marrying Arthur Weasley today, Molly." Molly turned to her mother with a huge grin plastered across her face, the wind picking up and playing with her curls merrily once more.

"Why, of course, Mother!" she exclaimed, and a cold shiver ran down Melanie Prewett's spine. The girl was so cheerful, yet there was something off about her words, a sense of wrongness. She was a puppet for some performer's idea of how a bride would behave on her wedding day, not the normal Molly Prewett.

"This is the day of which I have known about and dreamed of since I was six, mother dear! I shall be quite, quite sensible now and hurry into the house to complete my ablutions before the ceremony, shall I? Yes, I'll nip right off and cease this daydreaming about my groom right at this moment." Molly turned and rushed past Melanie with an absurd clumsiness—tripping twice—in a way that Melanie could not recall ever seeing in her daughter before that day.

Melanie would soon forget her uneasiness on her only daughter's wedding day: how the girl was unusually silent for most of the weeks preceding her wedding, gazing off at the willow tree across the valley, lying perfectly still on the sofa for hours in the early morning, eyes open but unseeing. But she would never forget the sight of her daughter's expression as she faced her groom at the opposite end of the aisle from her. It was not the look of a bride, it was the look of a condemned prisoner facing the Dementor assigned to Kiss them.

* * *

"_If you mean to come for me, send me a signal and I will meet you in the willow tree." Molly had sent the note off with her parents' owl the week before, but there had been no reply. Sitting in her bedroom twenty minutes before the ceremony was to start, her Maid of Honor—a fifth year named Alice—had come running up the stairs with a huge armful of roses. _

"_Molly, these flowers just arrived for you, and they're arranged like a bride's bouquet, but don't you already have one?" Molly had stood, dropping her bouquet of lilies on the bed and stretched out her arms to receive the bouquet of red and white. A name ran through her head. _

Lucius._ She knew it was his farewell. At the last Hogwarts dance he had brought her a corsage of a white rose, and she had brought him a boutonnière of a red one. At the end of the evening, he had pulled an entire bouquet of red and white roses out of the sleeve of his robes and presented them to her. _

"_A trick I saw a muggle do once, and replicated with a bit of a clever Charm." He told her in response to her delighted queries. _

_Trying not to let Alice see what she was doing, Molly looked among the roses for a note, a letter, a communication of some kind. In a few moments she ascertained that there was a tag hidden amid the roses, but her fingers sought it out immediately. _

Goodbye, Mollly._ She ran outdoors with the bouquet and climbed the hill overlooking the small valley, and the willow tree on the other side. Her face was calm, but inwardly she raged and wept at the injustice of the world, trapping her Lucius at the side of Voldemort, and making her too proud to return to him without his leaving his Master._

* * *

"Do you, Mary Jeanine Prewett take Arthur Selenius Weasley to be your wedded husband?" Molly blinked in astonishment out of her reminiscence and into the unhappy present. She noted absently that her hands were both being held by Arthur and she trailed her eyes up from their joined hands to meet his worried, loving eyes. She swallowed hard.

"I do."

o~O~o

Molly smiled down at her three small boys in bed with her. Bill and Charlie, only a year apart at three and two years old were looking solemnly at the small bundle of baby in her arms.

"What we gon name him, Mama?" Bill asked blinking his light eyes up at her. A memory rolled across her, powerful in its intensity.

* * *

"_Draco? Why would you name a baby boy Draco?" Lucius looked vaguely affronted. _

"_It's a family name. According to the Malfoy Bylaws, all baby names must either come from an approved list, or be of sufficient gravity to be worthy of a Malfoy." Molly leaned back on the sofa and just let herself admire the clean lines that Lucius made in the room, all angles and corners, severe, but when he smiled, and held her, they fit together so comfortably. She cleared her throat._

"_Is Draco on the approved names list?" she asked curiously. Lucius smirked. _

"_Actually, it is not, and mainly because until a few hundred years ago, it was a Dumbledore family name, quite traditional in fact. At least one child per generation was named Draco." Molly's jaw nearly dropped. _

"_Draco Dumbledore. That just sounds…wrong. Even Bathilda Bagshot has a ring to it, but Draco Dumbledore? No, that produces absolutely no vibrations." Lucius shrugged his thin, silk clad shoulders and sat down on the sofa next to Molly's feet. _

"_Nevertheless, a Malfoy couldn't name their child Draco when the Dumbledores were still doing it, but now they're not—they've been on an "A" kick for their sons' names for a bit now—and I've always been fond of the name._

"_Draco Malfoy." Molly said musingly. "It rather does sound fine."_

* * *

Molly cleared her throat and cast about for the least dignified, least Old Family-Latin-Based name she could think of.

"Well I'm rather fond of Percy, but why don't we ask Daddy when he gets home?" she smiled benignly at her small brood and touched the new infant's turned up nose.

"He rather looks like a Percy."

"Purse!" Charlie murmured and snuggled closer to his mother's side.

o~O~o

Molly ran staggeringly down Diagon Alley and ducked into the first open door she saw, gasping for breath and favoring her bloody right knee. She blanched as she realized that she had run from a group of Death Eaters only to walk directly into a pub that had three Death Eaters in full regalia stepping out of a back room and into the main area where she was standing. One of the figures had their wand in their hand instantly, and Molly held hers out waveringly to counter any possible hex or curse that could come. The foremost figure batted their companion's wand down.

"Oh, do think a moment, Crabbe." The man said irritably. "This woman's a pureblood, married to a pureblood, with three pureblooded children." Molly recognized the voice instantly. She would know it anywhere.

"Five, actually." She said quietly. "I've had twin boys recently." Lucius took a half step forward, then turn back to face his companions.

"You see? She is someone that is for us, even if she has had a spot of bad luck today." He said, turning back and motioning at her bleeding knee. Molly swayed suddenly with fatigue and spots appeared floating in front of her eyes. Lucius darted forward and caught her with unerring accuracy and Molly was reminded of his absurd grace he had always employed when dueling in DADA. She tried to wave him off.

"I will be fine; just need to head home." Lucius motioned at his companions to leave, then sat in a chair next to Molly, removing his mask and quietly casting a Notice-Me-Not spell around them.

"It's been awhile, Molly." he said quietly, removing his mask and tucking it into his pocket. "Congratulations on the twins." Molly smiled sadly and looked down in her lap where her hands were fiddling nervously with her robes. Lucius tipped her chin back with one hand and gazed into her eyes.

"May I escort you home? I must be sure that you are safe." Molly's eyes hardened.

"I would be safer if you and the others would cease your attacks on everyone." she said emotionlessly. Lucius drew back, his own face completely blank, then he leaned forward again. Molly's breath caught and her hands started shaking slightly. She reached out and laid a hand along his cheek.

"Oh, it's been so long." she barely whispered the words, then carefully touched her lips to his for a fleeting second before drawing back and standing abruptly.

"I have to go." she threw over her shoulder and began to walk out the door.

"Do you love him yet?" Molly stopped and looked at him, agonized eyes meeting desperate ones. She shook her head slowly.

"I could. I still could. But I still love…" her words trailed off as she looked outside to see a curious streak of green flashing towards her out of a Death Eater's wand. Lucius saw it at the same time and crossed the distance between himself and her in a second. He wrapped his arm around her waist and Molly felt herself being dragged between points on the map as Lucius Apparated both of them away.

Molly staggered away from Lucius, an muggle expletive escaping her lips quietly.

"Shit, was that the Killing Curse?" Lucius's face was entirely bloodless, whether from shock or rage, Molly couldn't tell. Molly looked around, clearly shaken.

"Is this Malfoy Manor?" she asked, disoriented by the quick escape. Lucius nodded and reached out for her hand. Molly let him take it and lead her down a dark corridor.

"This is the Lord and Lady's wing of the Manor. Narcissa and I've moved down here since my father died. Molly let a breath jerkily and tried to ease the knot of tension in her abdomen.

"Yes, I heard that you were married after Narcissa graduated last year." Lucius suddenly turned around and kissed her; Molly felt like they had never been parted and that the past six years were a nightmare, a bad dream, that Voldemort had never come into existence, and she and Lucius were once again sneaking around the Manor, kissing in out of the way corners. She melted into Lucius and once again felt as though she and he fit together perfectly, if a bit differently than usual. Her body had changed after five children, and while magic could ease the transition, she still had stretch marks, widened hips, and fuller breasts. Lucius, too, had changed. He was taller, more muscular, and his outline of all corners and sharp edges had eased somewhat, although he was mostly still and angular figure. She pulled back from him, her children and Arthur's sad, loving face came into her mind.

"I have children, you have a wife and Arthur loves me, even if I do not love him." she said desperately. Lucius let go of her and stepped away with a suddenness that nearly made her fall.

"Shall we stop?" he asked, his face inscrutable. "You can Apparate home right now if you wish. You are living in the Burrow, yes? There is a floo around the corner." Molly stood very still for a moment before she crossed the short distance to Lucius and deliberately slid her hands inside his robes, tracing the lines of his collarbone and neck.

"I have a few minutes till I need to be home." she said, hating herself for wanting to stay, and hating herself for needing to go at the same time. _I am a despicable human being._ She thought to herself, and followed Lucius into the master bedroom.

o~O~o

Molly lay on her side, curled up in a tiny ball around her newest son, bitterly disappointed about his gender, and hating herself for being disappointed. _A baby girl with my nose and Lucius's eyes, and I could pretend every time I looked into them that he and I would dote on her together, and feel guilt wracked every time Arthur joked that he couldn't find himself in her at all._ She thought, looking down at the quietly sleeping newest Weasley. She memorized his face carefully and was relieved to note that he resembled her family most strongly, and was even more relieved that he did not appear to have any of the legendary Malfoy looks at all.

Her eyes heavy with fatigue, Molly was just drifting to sleep when she heard a familiar voice passing her room.

"For heavens sakes, Lucius, I'm in labor, not dying, you don't need to carry me!" Lucius's voice, determined and smooth carried more readily than his wife's high pitched tones.

"Six miscarriages and you expect me be relaxed? Narcissa, I'll carry you everywhere and you won't walk again until you're full term and a Healer says that it's safe for our child to be born." Molly didn't hear Narcissa's reply, but suddenly she was completely awake, and tired though she was, Molly did not sleep, but rather cried.

_Why am I doing this to myself?_ She wondered, then _Why do I _love_ him?_ Suddenly, it was as though someone removed a Confundus from her.

_I could love Arthur._ She realized. _Love potion._ Rather illegal, but she only wanted one to love her own husband. Was it too much to ask? She had been rather good at Potions, once, she could made a simple Love Potion. A permanent one. Molly recalled a book she'd once seen in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library, and also in a certain shabby second hand book store she'd visited once in Knockturn Alley. She resolved to go back as soon as she was released from St Mungo's.

o~O~o

Molly stirred the heavily scented potion counter-clockwise a final time and lay the stirring stick down on a heavy cloth next to the cauldron.

"Mama, what are you cooking?" Bill was looking up at Molly with wide, innocent seven year old eyes and smiling. Molly swooped down and scooped him up in her arms with a slight twinge in her groin. She still wasn't quite healed from having Ron, and Bill was almost too heavy for her to carry easily now.

"Mama's practicing some of her old school lessons!" she told him, tweaking his nose between her the fingers of her free hand. The scents from the cauldron drifted up to her. This was no Amortentia to allow wafts of corn bread, jasmine flowers, clean baby, and mint to drift up to her nose. This was an ancient recipe that she had found after several weeks of hunting through old bookstores with a tiny Ronald in a sling on her chest, and five other little boys toddling after her with wide eyes. It had taken her a relatively much shorter time to locate the ingredients for the potion; surprisingly, they were mainly basic, inexpensive things. The most difficult ones to find had been a vial of dragon tears and monksfoot petals. She hadn't even known the plant flowered. Apparently, it was only once a year, on a full moon that coincided with a close proximity to Venus.

Molly allowed Bill to hold a vial of Unbreakable glass steady as she poured the cooled potion into the jar. She did not think that she was crying, but a single tear splashed onto Bill's hand as the last drops of the potion fell into the jar.

"What's wrong?" Bill blinked at Molly in confusion. She smiled and wiped the tear off his hand.

"All better, see? The fumes from the potion just made my eyes water." she lied and capped the vial before hugging him tightly. "Go get your pajamas on; your brothers are already asleep." Bill sighed and kissed Molly's cheek before trotting obediently upstairs. Molly slipped the vial into the pocket of her robes and cast _Scourgify_ on her potion making tools before putting them away and slipping into her and Arthur's bedroom and changing into her favorite, warm pajamas. She sat down on the bed in them and held the vial in her hands, turning it over and over again. There were so many ways this could go wrong. She might have made the potion incorrectly, although she dismissed the concern rather quickly. She had always been rather good at Potions, and she knew that the final result matched what was described in the book. No, she admitted to herself. The real reason she was hesitant to take the potion wasn't because someone besides Arthur might come in and cause her to fall in love with them instead, it was because she didn't want to stop loving Lucius.

Molly gritted her teeth, put the vial on her nightstand and walked upstairs to the boys' rooms casting light sleeping spells on each little form before kissing their foreheads and returning downstairs.

Arthur was not home yet, but it was still relatively early; only eight in the evening. These days he was often out till then or later before coming home, having already eaten. She knew why, too. He sensed her emotional distance from him and despite loving his children and wife a great deal, he was uncomfortable around Molly's quiet sadness which was increased exponentially since Ron's birth. Thankfully, he seemed to believe it was a normal thing; that women sometimes grew depressed and morose after a child's birth.

Molly stood, white knuckled in front of her bathroom mirror, casting cleaning and whitening spells on her teeth, and a few cosmetic spells on her face.

* * *

"_Molly, you're so beautiful." Lucius touched her pale cheek almost reverently. "You look like an ancient warrior maiden of the Celts with your fiery hair and strong hands." Molly smiled and lay her head on his shoulder._

* * *

"Dearie, you look tired." the mirror observed and Molly jumped slightly, then flushed, ignoring the mirror's makeup advice. She wandered back into her bedroom, extinguishing the bathroom lights and turned the vial of potion over and over in her hands.

* * *

"_Are you sure?" Lucius was white knuckled and more pale than usual. His face was afraid, but also strangely exultant._

"_No, I'm not sure." Molly responded, a bit irritated and very afraid herself. "I sincerely hope I'm wrong. We're only sixth years, not ready to be parents at all!" Lucius looked annoyingly superior—and beautiful—in the pale light reflected down through the window of the secret room they'd found that only opened on Wednesdays at six thirty pm. They had a different secret room for every night of the week they wished to meet. Hogwarts had hundreds of such rooms, but most people had no inclination or aptitude for finding them._

"_Whatever Madame Pomfrey says the results are when she can do the test, I'll be happy for us." Lucius told her with sincerity in his voice. Molly looked surprised. "You see, I would love to have a child with you, so I will be happy if that is the news. Alternately, I know that it is not convenient now for that to happen so I will also be glad if the results are negative." Molly relaxed into Lucius's side and buried her face in his shoulder._

"_Thank you." she murmured. "Still; I wonder why the contraceptive potion might have not worked." She felt Lucius shrug. _

"_For some people the standard one just doesn't work well. We might need to switch to a more specialized potion. They're more expensive, but I can afford it easily." he said magnanimously and kissed the top of her head._

* * *

Molly opened the vial and let the smell of it waft up to her nose. It had a relaxing scent, almost like sandalwood and vanilla.

* * *

_Lucius buried his face in her hair. _

"_Mm, you always smell so nice." Molly smiled and ran her fingers across Lucius's firm stomach. _

"_I'd say the same for you, but well.." she laughed lightly at Lucius's affronted face as he drew back from her. He chuckled himself, lightly and kissed her gently._

"_I always smell nice." he said, drawing back again. "My father taught me the appropriate grooming cantrips when I was six." Molly took a deep breath through her nose and exhaled noisily, laughing again._

"_You always do smell fresh, but impersonal." she concluded. "Like a freshly _Scourgified_ office building. Perfectly acceptable but no sense of personability." Lucius looked thoughtful._

"_Ought I develop my own trademark smell?" he inquired seriously. Molly leaned in and took another deep breath before smiling rather shyly at him._

"_I always like the way we smell together after sex." she told him, and he looked pleased, leaning over her to kiss her forehead._

* * *

Molly tipped her head back, raised the vial to her lips, and mentally steeled herself by counting to ten and emptied the vial into her mouth before she could change her mind. She barely managed to swallow all of it, having underestimated the amount of liquid in the dose and spluttered ungracefully as she recorked the vial and put it into a drawer. She felt herself growing quite sleepy, an almost visible veil of weariness being drawn across her vision. She vaguely recalled that the potion was supposed to make the drinker fall asleep until another person entered the room, they would then supposedly wake up and would fall irrevocably in love with the first person they laid eyes on.

* * *

"_I love you, Molly."_

* * *

A tear slid out of the corner of her eye as darkness overtook her mind. Molly was asleep before her body was completely stretched out on the bed, and she did not dream.

o~O~o

A rustle in the room brought Molly back to full consciousness in the space of a half a second. She bolted upright, strangely exhilarated and cast her eyes about.

* * *

"_One day I will be the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and I will make it a law that no woman is permitted to claim to be more beautiful than you."_ _Lucius made the pronouncement quite seriously and looked very offended when Molly laughed at him._

"_How silly can you be?" she asked rhetorically, then sobered and kissed him._

"_You're a dear to say so, but by the time you're Chief Warlock we'll both be over a hundred and by then _every_ lady will be more beautiful than aged, wrinkled me."_ _Lucius's lips quirked slightly and he took her hand between his and tugged her down the corridor towards their next class._

"_To me, you will always be the fairest in the land." he vowed, and Molly laughed again with delight._

* * *

"Arthur." a dark form stood up out of the corner and hopped in a little circle grunting. A shoe flew out of his silhouette and he straightened, bring his face into the candlelight. Molly's breath caught as a wave of emotion hit her with a palpable wave and she was momentarily paralyzed by the depth of emotion she now held for this man, her husband of nearly eight years. He looked at her warily, taking in her tousled hair, red lips and sweet, shy smile. He blinked in confusion, starting towards his suddenly lovely wife who had been haggard and drawn for so long he'd nearly forgotten about the slim, graceful sprite he had wed.

"Is this my Molly?" he asked, and Molly felt the strangest tug within herself in two directions and she realized that while she now loved Arthur, Lucius was still a presence within herself. Arthur was now standing in front of her, reaching out with a tentative hand to touch her hair, and for the first time in their relationship, she sighed and leaned into his hand. She swallowed and looked up into his hopeful, tired, sad eyes.

* * *

"_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime." Lucius sang a snatch of song as he pulled a bunch of violets out of his sleeve and tucked them into Molly's hair. Molly made a small noise of complaint and stepped away._

"_Purple doesn't go well with my hair color, and was that a muggle song you're singing?" Lucius pulled her back into his embrace and arranged the violets more carefully in the braid circling her head. _

"_Every color looks good on you, love, except perhaps a clashing shade of red," he mused, "And even Muggles can write a decent song once in awhile." he tipped her chin back and kissed her lightly, as he always did, waiting for her to respond and deepen the kiss before he would go farther. _

* * *

"Arthur….I love you." His head snapped back and he gazed at her in abject shock and joy. She had never once before said those words to him. He had heard her croon the words to each of their children, heard her say it in her sleep to Lucius, heard her cry and beg for her love to come take her before she was to wed as she slept, heard her tell her brother, mother, father, and best friends the words, and had patiently waited, never expecting her to reciprocate when he would murmur that she was his love, but always hoping. Hoped that with the next child she would realize she loved him. Hope that if he could get a promotion and be able to afford the contraceptive potions that worked for her she would come to him of her own accord. Hoped and wished until he could not any longer, and now she loved him?

Arthur ran trembling fingers along her cheek and tipped her chin up to kiss her reverently. Molly closed her eyes, her body reveling in the touch of the one to whom her heart would now belong forever, but she felt tears streaming down her face as though they would never stop.

* * *

_(I do enjoy getting reviews, and if you review one of my stories, I'll read and review at least one of yours!)_


	5. Ginny's Lingerie

Pet Peeve #4: Magic doesn't fix everything! One potion won't make every insecure witch a complete hottie, and some things one just has to live with. Like a body that doesn't quite fit your ideals.

* * *

It was four years after the Battle at Hogwarts that Ginny finally became impatient with her boyfriend. Shortly after the Battle, Harry had become withdrawn, quiet, and absolutely driven in his self-directed studies. He worked for hours a day on mastering the most difficult spells and on his Auror training to the exclusion of all else, including his red-headed girlfriend.

"He doesn't even notice if I parade around the flat in my skivvies!" she complained one day to Hermione, who immediately got a studious, introspective look on her face. Ginny leaned back on the raggedy couch in Hermione and Ron's flat and closed her eyes, frustrated.

"What _kind_ of underwear do you have?" Hermione finally asked, and Ginny blushed slightly as she sat up again, a bit uncomfortably.

"Well?" Hermione pushed, when the girl did not answer.

"Honestly, basically the same kind of underwear that mom always bought me when I was living at home. I've never branched out." Ginny admitted. Hermione groaned and rubbed her forehead wearily. Standing up, she tugged Ginny to her feet and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked. Hermione Accioed her purse to herself and smiled, a bit devilishly.

"Going shopping." she said, and Apparated away, taking Ginny with her before the redhead could protest.

* * *

Ginny blinked rapidly in an attempt to readjust her eyes to the new lighting. Hermione's flat had been filled with soft, natural light, but now there was harsh, glaring light coming from overhead that reflected off the windows and shiny floor with uncomfortable intensity. Hermione was grimacing slightly.

"Ugh." she said, "I forgot how much I hate Muggle malls; they're so crowded." she turned to Ginny who was staring at all the stores and displays with a look of awe and shock on her face.

"Come on!" Hermione pulled Ginny down the hall. "My fifth favorite store is down this way!" Ginny followed, smiling indulgently.

"What are your first four favorite stores?" she inquired, laughing breathlessly. Hermione grinned at Ginny.

"Ah, various book stores." she responded. Ginny at this point had no idea where they were in relation to where they had come from.

"It's like a maze in here!" she marveled, craning her neck to peer in every direction. "Where are we going?" she bumped into Hermione who had stopped and had stuffed her hands in her pockets, looking towards a store that had…Ginny blushed furiously.

"There are knickers and bras in the window of that store!" Hermione eyed Ginny and laughed aloud.

"Ah, good old straight-laced wizarding society." she said, half fondly, half irritatedly. "These kinds of displays are very common in the muggle world. Come inside! What size do you wear?"

"Size?" Ginny asked, eliciting another groan from Hermione. A pink-haired saleslady with "Harrods" and "Nici!" written on a name badge approached them within seconds of entering the store, forestalling any further discussion from the two.

"Good afternoon! My name is Nici; what can I help you find?" she inquired pleasantly, running an experienced eye over the two girls and clearly mentally cataloguing their sizes and possible underwear needs. Ginny opened her mouth to respond by gasped slightly as Hermione elbowed her in the ribs. Hermione leaned towards the saleslady and near whispered an enigmatic sentence.

"She's still wearing the same style knickers and bras that her mother bought for her in third form." the saleslady blinked in astonishment and turned woeful eyes onto a thoroughly embarrassed Ginny who had never had her underwear choices discussed in front of anyone…ever.

"And what size do you wear?" the saleslady addressed Ginny directly who squirmed around in her loose t-shirt until she could see the tag. The saleslady watched curiously, not knowing what the redhead was doing; Hermione groaned and rubbed her temples wearily, know exactly what Ginny was doing.

"Medium!" Ginny announced a moment later, which caused the saleslady to exhale in exasperation.

"That's your shirt size, not your bra size, and since that shirt is too big for you, it isn't even that." she told Ginny, who looked surprised. Nici took a deep breath and smiled brilliantly.

"All right." she said, sticking a hand in her pocket and bringing out a tape measure, "raise your arms and I'll measure you." Ginny looked desperately at Hermione who nodded imperceptibly and raised an eyebrow. Ginny huffed and raised her arms.

"34D." Nici announced and Ginny looked confused.

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked; Hermione smiled.

"It means that you have very easy boobs to shop for." she responded, causing Ginny to flush an even darker shade of red. Nici laughed softly and patted Ginny's shoulder.

"What kinds of bras are you looking for?" Hermione answered after seeing Ginny's blank expression.

"Two pushup bras, one full coverage, two sports bras, one backless, and a few partial coverage in cute, non-pink prints." Hermione answered, as if reciting from a list. "And knickers to match some of the bras, if possible, and all in bikini cut or thongs." Ginny looked as if she were about to panick.

"What's a thong?" she asked. Nici turned to a display case and pointed out a picture of a model wearing a black lace thong. Ginny began to hyperventilate.

* * *

"How the hell does a bra _do_ this to my boobs?! They look completely different!"

* * *

"Sweet Merlin, I can't wear this."

* * *

"I am _not _putting those knickers on! They don't even cover my ass!"

* * *

"I _want_ these knickers! Is there a bra to match? One of those shove-up ones that make my boobs look so awesome?"

* * *

"Um, is there any way that you could put these in a plain bag and not a _bloody see-through one with a naked girl drawn on it_"

* * *

Ginny stood in front of the mirror in Harry and her bedroom and stared at herself in the full length mirror.

"I can't do this. I cannot walk out in the living room with nothing on but these knickers and this bra!" Hermione walked across the room and smacked Ginny lightly on the top of the head.

"You look hot." she said seriously, "and you walk around in front of Harry in your old knickers and bra all the time. Looking this great ought to give you _more_ confidence, not less." she pointed out logically and Ginny let out a huge breath.

"But I look so…" she trailed off.

"Hot? Attractive? Kissable? Fuckable?" Hermione started running through adjectives. Ginny flushed and whirled around.

"All right, I'll go out there." she promised. "You can leave." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'll Apparate away as soon as I hear you talking to Harry." she promised. Ginny wrinkled her nose, then nodded. Hermione grinned, opened the bedroom door, and shoved Ginny out. Ginny whirled around.

"Hey!" she complained and threw herself back through the door. Hermione snagged the girl's shoulders, spun her around and attempted to push her back through.

"Get out there!" Hermione ordered. "Or Harry will hear us and come find out what we're doing!" she looked Ginny in the eye. "Do you want your boyfriend back or not?" Ginny stopped struggling abruptly, straightened, and gave Hermione a business like nod, whirled on her heel and marched around the corner toward the kitchen where Harry was studying.

Ginny took several deep, stabilizing breaths, then walked around the corner from the living room into the kitchen. She crossed around the table the long way, to give the most opportunity for Harry to see her scantily clad form. He was absorbed in a book, jotting notes on a parchment from time to time with a muggle pencil. Ginny poured herself a glass of water and sipped it daintily, leaning back against the counter facing Harry who did not look up.

"Would you like something to drink?" Ginny asked.

"Mm? Yeah, pumpkin juice." Harry did not look up. Ginny huffed in annoyance and poured a glass of pumpkin juice. Inspiration struck, and she silently Accioed a vial of Lust Potion that she had brewed several months earlier in the grip of horny desperation and carefully allowed one drop to fall into the cup. Hardly enough to affect him noticeably, but she hoped it would give her an edge in seducing her boyfriend. Smiling now, she crossed the room and held out the cup. Harry glanced up just enough to notice where the cup was, took it from her and knocked the entire thing back in two swallows.

"Thanks Gin." he said absently, returning to scribbling. A few seconds later, while Ginny stood dumbstruck, his eyes flickered to Ginny's stomach level. The redhead instantly moved her body into the sexiest, relaxed pose she knew how to as Harry's eyes trailed up her body to her face, and back down to her new bra which pushed her assets up to show them off the in most noticeable way possible. He blinked, stared a moment, and as Ginny leaned forward to kiss him he grinned.

"Ahhh, so if the Arthimantical equation has a logarithmic base of four instead of base then that changes the way the pH balance of werewolf blood will interact with the silver powder, taking into account the natural variation in the acidity of phoenix tears!" Harry's voice dropped into a steady mutter as he returned to scribbling on his parchment. Ginny stood, completely floored. Frustrated, she threw her head back, screamed, and stomped off to the bedroom. Harry never flinched.

* * *

"All right." Hermione said as Ginny entered the bedroom, sitting on the queen size bed with her hands folded on her lap, looking freakishly like Professor McGonagall, "it's time for the spell." Ginny slammed the door and whirled to face Hermione.

"What spell?" she demanded. Hermione raised a shoulder in a tiny shrug.

"That depends on you. Did he look at you? If so, what part of you did he take the most notice of? We'll use that to decide if he's a boobs, butt, or face guy and use a spell to enhance that part of you to _really_ get his attention." Ginny gaped.

"That's brilliant." she breathed. Hermione smiled. Ginny shook her head slightly to clear it and thought back.

"My boobs." she decided. "He definitely spent the most time looking at my boobs." Hermione stood and twirled her wand, and stuck it behind her ear. She dug through her moleskin pouch for a moment before drawing out a length of muggle paper that had writing on both sides of it.

"Aguamenti, fellati….oh, not that one… ah here! Augendo Mammae!" Hermione concluded happily. "All right, here's how this one works." she continued. "And I have no idea why it works this way. I'll cast this spell on you, and then you have to get people to apologize to you. For every apology you receive, your breasts will increase in size by about a cubic inch. Ginny looked blank. Hermione sighed.

"They'll get this much bigger." she clarified, conjuring a small block. The confusion on Ginny's face cleared into a questioning expression.

"But how do I get them to stop growing?" she asked hesitantly.

"Say: 'Mammae Constans'." Hermione instructed. "And be careful! As far as I know this spell is irreversible, and so say the counterspell as soon as you have the size you want. Also, I can't do the apologizing, for some reason, because the caster of the spell cannot also be the catalyst for the change." Hermione added.

"Cast it!" Ginny urged, smiling. Hermione took a deep breath, twirled her wand, and settled it in her hand.

"Aguendo Mammae!" she commanded, and a fine, greenish mist poured out of the end of her wand and surrounded Ginny, slowly moving and coalescing around her body until they outlined her breasts. The mist then appeared to be sucked into Ginny's body and vanished in a series of flickers. Ginny looked down at herself.

"So, now I go find people to apologize to me?" Hermione shrugged. "I suppose so. Remember what the counterspell is?" Ginny bit her lip.

"I think so. Can you say it again to remind me?"

"Mammae Constans." Hermione said and picked up her purse. "I need to go back to work and put in a few more hours today. Floo me later!" Ginny smiled and gave Hermione a quick hug.

"Thank you so much." she said sincerely before picking up her own wand and purse and Apparated away.

* * *

Ginny popped into the middle of Diagon Alley and landed gracefully. The second her foot touched the ground, a little boy with two fistfuls of squirming, melting Chocolate Frogs ran straight into her, giggling uncontrollably. He blinked and looked up at the new obstacle and recognition dawned on his face, Ginny supposed from seeing her photo in the Daily Prophet.

"Excuse me, Miss Weasley." he said shyly. "I'm sorry for running into you." Ginny felt a curious sensation like a hiccup in each breast as they grew a cubic inch instantly. She felt the urge to squeeze them to assess the new size but restrained herself from doing so in public. Blinking, she realized the little boy—perhaps five years old at most—was still looking up at her, waiting to be forgiven. She smiled down benevolently at his cherubic, chocolate-smeared face.

"That's quite all right young mister." she assured him and patted his head. His grin widened and he spun on his heel, running towards a pretty young, blond witch who held out a hand for him. Ginny waved goodbye to him and began walking towards Fortescue's which was also busy and would almost certainly gain her an apology. By the time she arrived, she had had two reporters apologize for bothering before asking for an interview—both of which she turned down—and had concluded that she wanted only one more apology before she would say the counterspell to stop any more growth. She walked into Fortescue's, around it, and back down Diagon Alley's length without one person bumping into her or performing any other behaviors that would necessitate an apology. Frowning to herself a bit she decided that she would walk down the other side, and then if she didn't see anyone else, she would just say the counterspell and Apparate home.

_After all,_ she mused to herself, looking down at her newly enlarged attributes happily, _I do like the size they are now…but no. I want just one more of those cured inches, or whatever Hermione called them._ Ginny crossed Diagon Alley and began to head down the other side, keeping an eye open for any clumsy people that she could induce to bump into her. As she eyed the insides of the stores for any acquaintances—Neville Longbottom, for instance could always be counted on for a good apology—she felt herself step on something small and soft. She stopped and looked down, and saw a small house elf sitting on the ground with two big tears beginning to fall out of the corners of its eyes. Belatedly, she saw that it was Winky, and that she was standing on the little elf's hand. Ginny retracted her foot as Winky snatched her hand back and cradled it to her chest, sniffling.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked the little elf. "I didn't mean to step on you. I'm sorry." Winky looked up, astonished.

"Missy Ginny Weasley is apologizing to Winky?" she asked incredulously. "No, Winky was at fault. Winky should not have been in Missy Ginny Weasley's way! Bad Winky!" Ginny bent down and attempted to comfort the house.

"It's all right, Winky!" she assured her. "I hurt you, so _I'm_ sorry." Winky shook her head.

"Winky does not need to be apologized to. Winky says a thousand apologies to Missy Weasley!"

Ginny started to smile reassuringly at Winky, then blinked, then stopped stock still in the middle of the sidewalk as people streamed around them and screamed.

* * *

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